The list is handed out and the names are about to be called ...

I had spent the last few nights in a restless state, waking up at odd hours and not being able to put my mind at ease. In fact, my mind had been constantly thinking and analyzing for an entire week.

Only one week ago, my Peace Corps group had received the list, the list that would determine what our next two years would be like, the list that included all of the 19 sites in Nicaragua where each of us would be working and living for the duration of our service. The list included many of Nicaragua's biggest cities and some small. After a week of reading the list over and over, doing Internet research on all the sites and projects, and evaluating and re-evaluating my personal interests and goals, the moment of all moments was upon us. At 1:30 p.m. on a rainy Friday afternoon, our program director stepped to the front of the meeting room, placed an empty map of Nicaragua on the board, and set down a stack of Post-it notes that would soon fill up the map by marking the places we would call home for the next two years.

It would be an understatement to say that emotions filled the air as if they were the Florida humidity on an August afternoon. Some of us were on the verge of tears, others literally shaking with nerves, and some sat silently and pensively. I, on the other hand, was overly excited, busily moving around the room from person to person, doing a pre-site interview on my video camera. Meanwhile, a traditional Nicaraguan band played upbeat music in one corner of the room, obviously to lighten the air. But as the program director stepped forward, ready to break the news, the music stopped and all was silent.

The names were read off in alphabetical order. Richman. Why was my last name Richman instead of Arnold or Baker? So while all the other last names were given their sites, I anxiously waited and mentally crossed off all the sites that could no longer be mine. Finally, my name was called. I jumped to the front of my room, looked directly into my program director's eyes, and heard the name of my new home - Granada, Granada (city, department).

Granada. The Spanish colonial-style city frequented by tourists around the world. I was immediately excited and terrified. Excited for the fact that I get to live in a beautiful city with generally great access to communication, transportation and basic necessities. Terrified that I get to live in a big, touristy city where after two years people will still think that I am just another tourist. Thankful for the opportunity to work with some amazing organizations helping to improve the lives of many Nicaraguans and to meet interesting people from all over the world.

Nervous for the great task of making a measurable, concrete impact on a city like Granada that stares directly toward me. I also feel a bit guilty that my Peace Corps experience will not be the typical "live in the middle of nowhere, bathe with a bucket experience."

During this upcoming week, I will get to spend five days in Granada learning about my new home, my new host family, the schools where I will be teaching and the work that lies ahead of me.

After that, only three weeks remain in my training, and I will be officially moving to start my new life.

The journey is now truly beginning.

Mandarin resident Avi Richman is spending 27 months as a Peace Corps volunteer in Nicaragua. While there he is writing articles for the Mandarin Sun describing his experiences.